September 2010

If ‘The Situation’ ever decides that life on MTV is not for him or if he shines on Dancing with the Stars and decides he no longer wants to live with a bunch of train wrecks on a TV show in Jersey and declares that he is just going to be Mike Sorrentino , “The Situation” will need to be passed on. I am not saying that I have anything in common with the fist pumper, and I don’t have my own iPhone App. However, I can argue that I get myself into situations a little more complex than realizing he brought home a girl with an adams apple.

All of that being said, we can address that I had less than an ordinary Friday. Yes, I am now sitting in on a Friday night eating miso soup and sashimi salad, but when else, other than my nights of babysitting would I have time for blogging?

Today started great. I attended BizTechDay2010, listened to some very inspiring speakers, networked with several interesting people and acquired lots of swag (gifts from the conference). When I finally rushed out of there to catch my 5:33pm train to Long Island my mind decided to take a nap and I went to Grand Central to get on the train rather than Penn Station, which would present itself as my first problem- but being me, I RAN to Penn Station and luckily the train was delayed 15 minutes. Jumped on, excited as ever for my never- ending luck and began transcribing my notes from the conference into a readable format in my email. Again, not paying attention, I transfer to the Locust MANOR train rather than the train to Locust VALLEY. And once I arrived I clearly saw the difference.

The first thing I saw when I got off the train was an Obama Deli. Being that I was desperate to find an outlet to charge my phone and figure out what the hell I should do, I walk into the democratic, run down deli (joke). The guys were nice to me, one asked all about my iPhone4, the other could not speak or hear. They let me plug my phone in and just stand around. Then the man who was unable to speak started writing to me on the back of a cigarette cart. He told me his name, Essue, and many other things that I could not understand, being that much of it was in Spanish. After a little while of this communication back and forth, he asked if I wanted to have a seat in the back. There he arranged a nice comfortable chair of eggcarts. As I sat, waiting for the train to come back through to get me back into the city, which was an hour, I charged my phone. At this point, I felt like it was a funny story. Then came the alteration in my experience. A group of undeniably shady guys came in to order sandwiches, they drank sodas and tried to put them back without paying and when Essue confronted them, their response was “I don’t know what you are talking about. And you don’t want anyone to get hurt, do you?” From that point, Essue somewhat protected me sitting in the corner. He stayed walking around the store, in front of where I was sitting until I left and went back to the so-called train station. The guys that worked there were truly sweet, offered me drinks, food, and at that time, shelter.

Once I got back on the train, I took it to Jamaica station and a driver, Bobby, picked me up to drive me out to the cottage in Long Island. It was clear that I could not handle any more public transportation. I’ve also realized that I have to stop being so chatty with drivers because they become comfortable with me and I discover how creepy they really are. Bobby, for example, asked me if I had a boyfriend and if I go to strip clubs in the city. Hello Uncomfortable!

During my visit at the Obama Deli when things got a bit nervous, I was using the video on my phone that I wish I could upload to bring everyone into the moment that I was experiencing: Small little white girl in business clothes and a weekend bag, sitting in the back of the deli charging her phone. It was a situation.

I finally made it to Long Island, ordered sushi, the kids are sleeping, I get to blog and relax. Sometimes it’s nice to get out of the city. I just wish it wasn’t always such a situation to do so!

So far you know that I am living in New York City, I share tight quarters with Melanie, I am in a very competitive workout NTMT challenge that has slowly been losing tallies, I love all-day brunches, I make crazy protein oatmeal creations and I am going to to need cosmetic surgery on my fingers within a matter of months if my anxiety does not lessen.

What you don’t know is what I do with the majority and priority of my time and attention. I am working for an awesome startup company called SkillSlate.

SkillSlate empowers the 16mm+ individual service providers in the US to market their services directly to consumers. A SkillSlate profile provides detailed professional and personal information including pictures, fees, and reviews, all with the aim of not only showingwhat the person does, but who the person is. SkillSlate puts these profiles together into a searchable, sortable directory where consumers can find service providers that fit their specific needs.

Now, to explain it in relate-able terms:

I fell in love with this vision 3 months ago when I was in NY, interviewing for jobs, mostly because of the enthusiast vibe and their desire to make NYC a better place for small local businesses and the consumers of New York. I grew up in an area where we did not hire large, faceless companies for services. We had the advantage of living in a small town and knowing Joe, The Locksmith down the road, who would not only perform the services for a fraction of the price that a large company would charge, but was also held accountable for his work. Solid relationships are established and you have a much more pleasant experience when you hire trusted individuals that you know.

That may be one of the only advantages of living in a small town, because in a city as populated as NY, finding local services that you trust presents itself as a challenge. Sure, there is Craigslist, but it is a very unreliable source, and how do you know you are going to find a trust worthy, quality person? This is the problem that SkillSlate solves with the service providers detailed profiles, it tells consumers everything they need to know about the people that they are allowing into their home.

Also, consumers have the ease of going through our comprehensive directory to find the perfect match that fits their budget, need and personal requirements. Everyone wins!

As for now I am plugging away with back-end public relations details, our site is in the redesign process, but look for big things in the very near future from SkillSlate. I am very excited to be apart of something so great and only getting better!

I need to do research on the study of reasons why people destroy their
very own fingers, more specifically, their cuticles. Stress? Anxiety?
Boredom? Nervousness? O.C.D.?Depression? A.D.D.? Love? Hate? Hunger?
Over-thinking? Under-thinking? Sexual tension? Pure insanity?

I can’t say that I fit many, if really, any of these descriptions fully. But
still, I tear my fingers apart like a kid opening presents on
Christmas morning. My gifts, however, consists of nothing but blood,
pain, disappointment and ugly hands. Sometimes it gets so bad, I
cannot put my hands in my pockets of tight jeans, it hurts to wash my
hair and don’t even ask me to squeeze a lemon or lime slice in a
vodka.

With this self-realization of the disgust, purposeful torture, and
distraction that I cause myself, I demand to know why I do not
discontinue this action! I have impressive will power and self control
with everything else in my life: running, eating healthy, my work
ethic, weekly deep- conditioning my hair, men!! Maybe I just take it
out on my poor, helpless fingers.

My only explanation for this fatal habit that I developed is that
statics show that the most common age for this nail biting frenzy is
around puberty. No, I’m not having my second round of the awkward age.
But puberty does represent a period in ones life when emotions that
are high and complex.
It is no secret that I am a treasure chest of emotions right now. I’m
not complaining because I’d rather truly feel life to the extreme
rather than just be content and settled. There is just one problem: I
may lose my fingers.

To all you nail, finger, toes, and cuticle biters and pickers out
there- read this as a self learning experience. As for myself-hopefully a self-help writing one. My final attempt to save my fingers is to visit the self-help section of the bookstore.

Waking up yesterday morning on game day, my initial thoughts, after getting in my game day morning run, were the IM fields in Tallahassee, cooking turkey burgers and buying kegs, playing beer pong and corn hole, and running to Bobby Bowden Field at Doak Campbell Stadium so that we don’t miss kick-off. Needless to say, 5 years later, waking up in New York City was not the same experience. The only aspects that made this strange experience seem right were my run, Melanie Chandler, my FSU polo, and listening to Kenny Chesney while getting ready. After cabbing it to the Saloon, the FSU bar, which is only 6 blocks away because we didn’t want to miss kick-off, I still wanted to stay outside and tailgate like a normal NOLE. It was the first touchdown, the first F-L-O-R-I-D-A S-T-A-T-E, the first war chant that brought back that feeling of home, being amongst hundreds of FSU friends. Seeing so many familiar faces, and running into people that I had no idea lived in the city was wild to me. After the game, the country music fix was cured at Brother Jimmy’s, the beer pong fix was cured at Stumble Inn, and the fact that I have to lose something on game days wascured at Southern Hospitality when I left my phone. But like always, ‘Saved by the Mell”- Chandler saved it. After having nightmares all night long about the calls and texts that I missed and the loss of my new phone, I woke up at 5:30 am with anxiety, with no one here but Chloe snuggling with me, checked my email, and the subject “I HAVE YOUR PHONE” was the most pleasurable thing I could read from Melanie Chandler. Still- I was stuck with no one here, no way to call anyone, but all the time in the world to clean, put away clothes, and go on a long, mind-clearing run. Finally, Toby comes home still drunk from last night, then Melanie strolls in with not one iphone 4 but two iphone 4’s. Yep- after losing hers on Thursday- she is now a proud owner of the sickest technology that does nothing but drop calls. Welcome. It is always Sunday’s that we make these promises of getting our lives together and stop losing things. We have one week until Florida State plays Oklahoma and I’m sure we will lose at least a pair of sunglasses by then. Football Season HERE WE COME!!!